Twelve Months of July
by spiresandforestfires
Summary: A Season Four Rewrite: Explores a year in the lives of Rachel Berry and Cassandra July as they begin this little dance of theirs. Features Hummelberry/Pezberry/Gay Trinity. I was just too inspired to stop myself after these last few Julyberry scenes.


**AN:** Hello to anyone who may be reading this! This happens to be my first venture into fanfiction as I'm more accustomed to original short stories, but the potentiality of Cassandra July and Rachel Berry is just too much for me. I always thought that any fanfiction I ever wrote would be Rachel/Quinn, but oh well. Here's this instead. This story marks a year in the life of Rachel Berry and Cassandra July (from July to July how clever, really, someone should give me an award). I have no idea how long it will be, but basically it's a season four rewrite paying attention to canon only where the New York storyline is involved. I will get things wrong, however, as I watched only parts of the episodes and don't really care much where Glee's original writing is involved. This is my Season Four. Along the road to Cassandra/Rachel there will be Rachel/Finn and Rachel/Brody so beware the cringe-worthy couples. Also: Hummelberry/Pezberry/Gay Trinity Friendship. Point of View will alternate between Rachel and Cassie; Kurt and Santana may show up a bit as well. x

xxxxx

CHAPTER ONE: Rachel - July 2012

New York is nothing like she imagined it to be. At age sixteen she might've seen fuzzy fantasies of Broadway lights and a faceless leading man standing beside her. Two years later and that image is the same, except this time the man isn't faceless. He's Finn Hudson and he's everything Rachel ever wanted or something like that. Rachel wonders when exactly she lost track of herself. She'd always known what she wanted, could write the list from memory, utilizing a number of obscure adjectives, but now she's hopelessly indecisive.

She can't remember the last one-on-one conversation she had. Sadly enough, Rachel considers the barista at her usual Starbucks to be her best friend in the city, if only because he smiles politely and puts the perfect amount of milk into her soy latte. Her summer internship (if you could call making copies of sheet music and filing them educational) is over tomorrow and the few acquaintances she's made are the NYADA librarians and the porter, who's nice enough to let her into the Round Room whenever she wants for late night practices. Classes don't start until next month so none of the freshmen are on campus yet and the upperclassmen are about as cold and disheartening as a three-way slushie attack.

Her entire routine has changed since moving here. No elliptical, no morning pickup by Finn, no Glee. She mostly feels like she's drowning now, staying up till all hours of the night staring at the ceiling of her dorm room, begging her fathers and Kurt to stay on the phone for five more minutes so she won't be left with the silence of finally getting what she always wanted. It's been two months since leaving Lima. July is almost over and Finn hasn't responded to a single voicemail or any of her hand-decorated, scented letters. She doesn't give up hope, though, that Finn will somehow regret his decision to join the army, move to New York, hold her through the night, maybe even just to put a little noise back into her life. It's not in Rachel Berry's nature to exist in quiet; she's always been loud, bold, and perhaps grating at times. Rachel never really subscribed to either Judaism or Christianity much, but she does believe in music as a way of life and, lately, it's hard to even enjoy singing because she feels like she has nothing to even sing about. As much as she despises the memory of Will Schuester's dumb whiteboard lessons in morality, at least they gave her some sort of starting point. She tired of singing forlorn songs about lost love around June 23rd when she sent her last letter to Finn and started sobbing in the post office.

Since then things have gotten stagnant and her upcoming freshmen year of NYADA no longer hangs as some proverbial carrot dangling on a stick. Rachel has never been more terrified in her life. She's heard the voices of other students as she walks the NYADA halls and never before has she been so insecure in her own talent. Sure, she's the best Lima, Ohio has ever seen, but there's an entire world of tap dancing, showtune singing horror lingering around every corner of New York City, just waiting to snatch up any dream Rachel ever thought she could hold onto.

When Rachel wakes up on the last day of July, the city is sweltering, throbbing with crowds filtering in and out of subway stops, people selling useless junk on each corner, and she smiles in spite of all the loneliness. _This is my city now, the good and the bad._ Her dorm building is only a fifteen-minute walk from the main NYADA library. She puts on her favorite mary janes, yellow skirt, and white blouse, forgoing the knee socks in light of the recent heat wave. As she weaves her way down the sidewalk, she spots NYADA girls giving her a once over, obviously noting the contrasts between Rachel's shoes and their stilettos. Her style might be a little different from the other girls she's seen around campus, but it never bothered her before in high school, so she sees no reason to let it bother her now. Except, these girls aren't donning cheerios uniforms. A sort of intimidated resentment replaces the shiver-inducing effect of the red-pleated skirts. She's spent enough time with Kurt to recognize expensive fashion and everywhere she looks it's Chanel boots and Versace dresses, the kind of clothes that not even the prettiest girls in school, even Quinn Fabray, would dream of wearing. These girls are all black eye makeup and black leather, even in the summer. It's enough to make Rachel want to turn around, put on her pajamas, and never leave the room again because Rachel likes the colors yellow and pink and she still sings in front of the mirror with a hairbrush.

While Finn might've found that endearing, she highly doubts any of the six-pack, hair gel New York boys would ever chance her a second glance. That's why she's startled by the decidedly male voice that calls out to her as she switches from her Journey playlist to her Barbra playlist.

"Excuse me, sorry, I was listening to music…" She pulls the white buds out of her ear and turns to see a boy sitting on a nearby bench. Except, he's hardly a boy, more like some sort of hybrid between teenager and young man. He's well built with impressive arms and what she's sure is a washboard set of abs beneath his tight, black shirt. His hair is doing that thing where it seems to defy gravity and his teeth are maybe a little too white, but he's definitely cute, in a New York City, untouchable sort of way.

"I asked what you were listening to," he says, gesturing towards her iPhone. She looks down bashfully, embarrassed at the particular song choice.

"New York State of Mind, Barbra Streisand's version if you must know. I know it's a bit of a cliché but…" Rachel looks down again, fidgeting with her namesake necklace.

"No, no! Streisand's classic. Has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like a hotter version of her?" He smiles a crooked grin.

Rachel smiles awkwardly back at him, half flattered and half dubious of his intentions. This guy is the first to say more than hello or excuse me to her in the last couple weeks. She almost convinced herself that a skinny guy was hitting her on in her favorite record store before his boyfriend came by and gave him a kiss. It feels like eons since she's been single and Rachel thinks that maybe she's forgotten how to be alone. This little bit of attention is enough to lift her spirits just a bit. She imagines Santana whispering in her ear: _God Berry, so desperate for attention, you'll settle for small chat with boy wonder over there_.

Except it's nice to have a guy smiling at her, even if he's not Finn. She can at least let herself have this one moment of happiness.

"Yeah, I like to think I sing like her as well," Rachel says as she goes to sit beside him on the bench.

"You sing? I thought I saw you around campus. You're looking at a fellow NYADA student." He shifts a bit closer, obviously looking to get something out of this conversation.

"Yes, I'm studying musical theater. I'll be a freshman this fall."

"I thought so. I know if you'd been here last year I would've noticed you sooner. I'm a junior this fall, musical theater as well."

He's very forward, almost reminiscent of Noah, but without the same flair for sexual innuendos and mohawks. She's hit with a momentary, crippling nostalgia as she remembers how Noah once chased her down WMHS hallways, calling her his Jewish American Princess, how Finn wrinkled his eyebrows in jealousy. _No, best not to think about him, remember that Rachel._

"…Would you like to go out for a drink sometime? I'd be happy to give you the crash course in everything NYADA. There's a bar just around the corner that all the students frequent." He gestures to some far-off point, hypothetically in the direction of the bar.

"Well, I'm underage, and the last time I drank alcohol things didn't end so well." She cringes in memory of her first and only house party turned alcoholic nightmare.

"Oh Okay." He doesn't look convinced. "Maybe we can sing together sometime. I'm always on the lookout for rehearsal partners who can keep up." He winks then in the way that only charming boys can and it's enough to make Rachel blush.

"Sure. I'll see you around sometime…sorry I didn't catch your name?"

"Brody Weston and you are?"

"Rachel Berry."

"Rachel. Berry. I'll be sure to remember that name. I'm sure I'll be hearing it a lot soon."

One more grin and he's gone, lost among the throng of midday foot traffic.

Rachel's fifteen minutes late for work, but it's no bother. The librarians barely even notice her presence anymore and she generally finishes up 20 minutes early anyway. Today she's working in the DVD section, alphabetizing a number of NYADA musicals from the 1990s. It's completely empty, except for the resident librarian and Rachel.

That is, until someone comes barging through the faculty entrance, letting the door slam. The first sight Rachel registers is the clacking of a long, black cane alongside long, black leather clad legs. Rachel's eyes scan up over black and white blazer that hardly conceals a tiny corset and wow…this woman is gorgeous. This woman is also angry, tapping her cane against the main desk to get the librarian's attention.

"Yes, Cassandra, how can I help you?" The Librarian stutters through the conversation after that, obviously intimidated, possibly even downright frightened, by the woman in front of her. The name Cassandra seems familiar and Rachel's convinced she's heard or read it somewhere, but without a last name, she's unable to place the familiarity of it. She's shaken out of her reverie by a wave of jasmine and suddenly this Cassandra is five feet away from her, browsing the collection of ballet VHS tapes. As she fingers the cane in thought, Rachel can't help but look at her, in envy of course. If the interest in ballet tapes didn't make it obvious that Cassandra was a dancer, then her physique most certainly would. She's all lean and long lines, so graceful, but not in a flowery way, more like a panther. She's maybe thirty years old, her age only showing in the slight crinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth and for the life of her Rachel can't figure out why she's staring, but she's transfixed until all of sudden her profile view becomes full on eye contact.

Cassandra is smirking at her. She looks Rachel up and down once, before turning neatly on her heel and making her way out the door. Rachel feels awfully like she's missed something, like this mysterious Cassandra knows something about her and she can't help but feel a trickle of apprehension and…is that excitement? Rachel can't know for sure, but she has a feeling she'll be seeing that woman again sometime soon.

She puts the woman out of her mind and returns to the monotony of filing, looking forward to some time in the Round Room before heading back to her dorm. It feels like Rachel's finally found something to sing about.

**AN:** Next chapter will be Cassie's POV of her last days of summer and the first day of classes. Review if you're feeling daring.


End file.
